


Low Rising

by go_gentle, shoemaster



Series: Care Package Fic [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Historical, Comment Fic, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/go_gentle/pseuds/go_gentle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoemaster/pseuds/shoemaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arranged marriage AU in which we mash up every romance novel we've ever read, from every conceivable era.  Originally written in email 1/17-2/3/2012, minimally edited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Low Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in email January 17-February 3, 2012. It hasn't been cleaned up much, but it's less than 1000 words before it gets to solid prose. This has mostly been passed around to friends stuck in hospitals or trapped in airports as care package fic, so we thought we'd make it available to everyone else/easier to reread ourselves.
> 
> Title from the Swell Season song of the same name.

I really want there to be some reason for them to hate each other at first. Something that happened when they were kids? 

I bet Seabs was a terror as a kid. 

And he was probably bigger than Duncs since...forever. 

I'm imagining that they had to play together as children during state summits or whatever, and duncs always ended up ground into the mud or w/e.  so then he starts coming up with subtler ways to get back at seabs, so they pretty much make each other miserable.

And of course there's like, weeks of Events leading up to the wedding and they're both expected to stand there and not look like they're planning their escapes. 

sadly, they're better supervised than they were as kids, so duncs can't dump ants down the back of seabs's shirts anymore. 

And Seabs can't climb out the window, even though the tree looks sturdier than it did when he was nine. He probably wouldn't even break his arm this time.  But he knows what the officials in charge of planning the wedding would do to him if he showed up in a sling, and it wouldn't be good.

So basically they stand next to each other and try to pretend that the other one doesn't exist.

Seabs spends a lot of his time practicing sword fighting? And Duncs hunts. Which is basically an excuse to go hang out in the woods with his horse and his dogs.

They probably have to take a honeymoon/grand tour of their two countries, and it's super awkward because they're not really speaking to each other, and they keep day dreaming about running away. And everyone who hosts them has them rooming together and makes sure to have early evenings, wink wink nudge nudge, because, aww, newlyweds.

They consummated the marriage but it was stiff and awkward and formal and they were both thinking about obligations, not sex.

And Seabs hates basically being sent to his room, so he just goes to sleep early, while Duncs stays up reading but seriously, how many candles does he need?

They have a bunch of snippy fights about that.  it's dumb, but it's basically the only time they really have to fight each other and the candles are right there, so they fight about candles.  except they have to do it all hissing at each other, because they don't want to let anyone know they're fighting.  first, because they both actually have some sense now and they know it would be bad for their image.

second, because the one time it turned into wrestling, the lady of the manor spent breakfast talking about how she remembers being young and in love, and there are some things Duncs just cannot deal with over eggs.

It's kind of too bad that Seabs is such a good fighter, it means Duncs's day dreams of him getting kidnapped are highly unlikely to come true.

Of course, if something happened to Seabs, Duncs would probably have to marry his younger brother and that would be just as bad or maybe worse.

The worst part is that Seabs kind of grew up hot.  Duncs still hates him, of course, but he can admit that if anyone else looked like that, he'd be totally into it. 

It's a shame that that body is wasted on an asshole like him. And god, the sex was so bad. So bad.

He'd like to tell that to the stable hand making eyes at Seabs right in front of him. Kane should have better behaved servants.

then again, maybe it's not that surprising, given what the Kane heir is like.  Duncs pretty much expects him to be disowned in favor of one of his younger sisters any day now.

it's probably not very nice of him to glare at the stable hand like that.  He just doesn't want Seabs getting any ideas or anything.

"I suppose it's too much to expect that you wait until after our wedding tour is complete before you break the vows," Duncs sighs.

Seabs has the audacity to pretend he doesn't know what Duncs is talking about and get offended.

Duncs thinks about tackling him into the hay, but he's honestly not sure he can manage it, with how broad Seabs is these days.  Plus he really doesn't want to explain why they're both covered in straw.

"At least have the courtesy of not conducting your affairs in front of me," he says and storms out.

He stews for the next few hours, and his mood isn't helped by the fact that Seabs and the Kane heir are apparently great friends and begin drinking long before dinner.

Has Seabs's laugh always been so loud?

He glares at them during dinner, but they don't seem to notice.  He'd suspect them of something, if not for the way Kane is so obviously fond of his man-of-business, who doesn't seem to mind how drunk Seabs and Kane are getting.

For once, no one tries to force them together for an early bedtime, which means Duncs can read in peace without anyone complaining about his candles.

He's missed this time to himself and he's reveling in it. Until, that is, Seabs comes in stumbling drunk and begins stripping himself of his clothing right in the middle of the room. 

Duncs doesn't mean to watch, but at least he's not checking out the stable hands - if he can't perv on his husband, who can he perv on?  And, wow, all that sword drill has really done Seabs a world of good.

Unfortunately, it also means he's a heavy motherfucker.  As Duncs learns when Seabs gives up the struggle with his nightclothes and sprawls out across the bed. And across Duncs

"Seabrook, would you please -" Duncs begins, but he's cut off by a loud snore. He shakes him. "Seabrook. Brent."  
   
Duncs sighs and tries to slide and roll out from underneath him, but Seabs just rolls with him until Duncs finds himself being spooned.

It's not too terrible.  Well, it is, because is Seabrook, and he smells like the beer he was drinking with Kane, but he's warm and solid and it's, just, nice. 

And really, he's much less annoying when he's asleep. So Duncs snuffs the candles - that requires a bit of a stretch - and goes to sleep wrapped up in his husband.  
   
Which is fine until Seabs wakes up the next morning.

Duncs is half awake, but he hasn't really bothered to work out where he is or who he's in bed with.  All he knows is that he's warm and there's someone holding him, and that's enough to not make him need to know more.

He can tell the moment Seabrook wakes up, though, because he startles and pulls away from Duncs like he's been burnt.

Duncs sighs and rolls to face the ceiling, stretching under the blankets.  
   
"What - what happened last night?" his voice is strained and weak.  
   
Duncs shrugs. "You drank too much with Patrick and then fell into bed and decided to use me like that stuffed dog you used to carry around as a child."  
   
"You dropped him in the mud," Seabs says.  
   
"You threw it at my head."

"You deserved it," Seabs says, hauling himself out of bed and hunting for his clothes.

Duncs tries to be less obvious about watching him get dressed this time.

He's on edge for most of the day, even though he barely sees Seabs. But their trip is finally wrapping up and tomorrow they'll return home.  
   
Or rather, to the Seabrook's holdings, as he is the eldest child of that household. Duncs doesn't have very fond memories of the land around there, but he blames that on Seabs and not the land itself.

Soon he'll have his own room and his own space.

While they've been gone on their grand tour, Duncs's people have moved his household into Seabrook's holding.  When they bring their horses to a halt in the courtyard, they're greeted by dogs barking, and Duncan's dogs come racing around the corner.  Heedless of his clothes, he drops to the ground to greet them.

Over the pile of hounds trying to lick his face, he can see Seabrook watching him with an odd look on his face.

"Stanley?" he asks the head housekeeper.  
   
"Impatiently waiting in your chambers," she says.  
   
Duncan frowns and pets his dogs some more. That seems awfully forward of this Stanley to be waiting there as Seabs returns with his husband. And of Seabs to be asking about him so openly in front of him.  
   
But before he can say anything, Seabs has disappeared inside.  
   
Fine then, if that's how this sham of a marriage is going to be, Duncan might as well get used to it.

He shoos most of the dogs back to their keeper, although Mowgli refuses to go.  He rubs her ears, then lets her follow him into the house.  A footman shows him to his rooms, where Mowgli makes herself comfortable on the bed while Duncan runs his hands over his books.

Duncan bathes and then changes for dinner. It's an informal dinner, according to the footman, just him and Seabrook, but that's no reason to be sloppy about things.

He hears the occasional thump from what he assumes is Seabrook's room and tries not to grimace. It's not as though Duncan wants to bed him, so any sort of jealousy is irrational.  
   
He's the first down to dinner, and the food looks good, but he's going to give Seabs a few minutes to join him before he begins eating.  
   
Seabs comes rushing in, as though he's still a teenager running to his parent's table. He looks flushed and his clothes are rumpled; Duncan's distracted enough by this that he doesn't realize there's a strange creature following behind him.  
   
"What is that?" he asks before he can stop himself.  
   
Seabrook glares. "He may not be a purebred hound, but I would still expect you to recognize a dog when you see one."

Seabrook takes his seat, and the dog follows him, putting his head in Seabrook's lap.

And, okay, Duncan may not like the man, but it's hard for him to hate anyone who can make a creature love them like that.

"What's his name?" he asks, as a peace offering.

"Stanley," Seabrook says, looking fondly down at his pet and scratching his ear.

Duncan's glad he isn't looking up because he might notice how embarrassed Duncan looks right now. Jealous of a mongrel.

"A fine name for a...."

"Mutt," Seabrook says.

"Does he hunt?" Duncan asks, because this is the longest, most civil conversation they've had in weeks.

Seabrook laughs. "No, he'll chase some rodents around the yard when he's feeling ambitious."

Seabs is already slipping his dog food, so it's no wonder that the mutt has never felt a need to take up hunting and tracking. 

"He seems sweet," Duncan says.

"Yeah," Seabrook says.  "Not a mean bone in his body, and he's spoiled rotten."

"He is a bit overweight for his size," Duncan agrees.

Seabrook glares at him and snaps, "He's a fine size." Then he slips Stanley another piece of meat defiantly. 

"I suppose I'm used to the look of hunting dogs," Duncan says.

"Well, he's not a hunting dog," Seabrook says.

"Obviously," Duncan says. It comes out snippier than he means it to, but he can't help it.

They don't say another word the entire meal. 

Duncan doesn't seen Seabrook after dinner.  And why should that be a surprise?  They're not on their honeymoon anymore, so there's no need to keep up appearances.

The next morning, when his breakfast is brought to him, Duncan asks the steward to take him out and show him the hunting land around the Seabrook holdings.  He also asks the man to invite Seabrook along, as a show of good faith.

The steward returns a few minutes later, with the air of one not looking forward to delivering his message.

"Lord Seabrook directs me to say that he has no interest in riding out with you," the steward says, "and no interest in hunting, as he has no dogs fit for the hunt, which you should know."  The steward pauses for a breath.  "Although, sir, I should mention that the manor does keep a pack of good dogs, contrary to what Lord Seabrook might say."

"I have dogs of my own," Duncan says. "But thank you. Do you happen to know what Lord Seabrook has planned for the day?"

"Training with his - your men, sir. And then a few meetings about the state of the holdings since your marriage and the joining of your lands."

"I want to be present for those," Duncan says. "I ought to know these things." 

"Of course, sir.  Just a short ride, then?"

They spend the morning surveying the land around the manor house. It's good land, Duncan has to admit, and he's already making plans for which parts he wants to explore first.  Then it's back to the house, and quick meal of cold chicken before joining Seabrook in his meetings.

Seabrook looks surprised to see him there.

"I don't like to be ignorant of the way my home is running," he says coldly. Seabrook should have told him about this meeting.

"By all means," he says, gesturing to the empty chair next to him.

Duncan takes the seat and sits quietly throughout the meeting, listening intently to the steward's opinions and the question's Seabrook is asking. He does appear to have some thoughts in his head, judging by the way he's handling himself. 

At the end, though, the steward brings up the topic of the Keith lands, and Duncan can't help putting his opinion in. Those are his tenants, and he's responsible for making sure they get a fair deal out of all this 

"They're mine now, too," Seabrook points out. 

"Well, in any case," Duncan says.

The meeting wraps up shortly there after, and as Duncan heads out into the hall, he almost trips over Stanley, who's waiting for Seabrook. And, he realizes, Mowgli is sitting in another doorway waiting for him. 

"Who's this?" Seabrook asks.

"Mowgli," Duncan says, calling her over.

"One of your hunting dogs?"

"Uh, sometimes," Duncan admits.  "But mostly she's my buddy."

She leans heavily against his leg and whines until he drops a hand to pet her.  
   
Seabrook looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't for a long awkward minute.  
   
"Well," Duncan says.  
   
"I promised my brother that we would train together," Seabrook says abruptly.  
   
"Give him my greeting," Duncan nods. He'll go find the library - surely they have a library here.

He finds it without too much trouble, Mowgli padding along at his side the entire time.  It's not as impressive as his library at home, but he supposes it will do.

Although, he thinks once he's in a chair with Mowgli curled up at his feet, he supposes this is his home now, and his library to improve.

He'll begin moving his private library into here tomorrow, and maybe see to more comfortable seating.

It's still strange to think that he's married, and will live here the rest of his life, but having plans for the next day makes him feel more settled.

It's another casual dinner, so he lets Mowgli come with him this time.  It's not that he doesn't think she'll get fed in the kennels, but he likes taking the opportunity to feed her himself, and it's not like Seabrook is going to object. 

They eat quietly until Duncan thinks to ask, "What are your plans for tomorrow?" 

He doesn't want to be left unaware of important events around the household again.

"Training with the men in the morning, tending to whatever needs tending in the afternoon," Seabrook shrugs.

There's a long pause before he asks, "And yourself?"

"I plan to combine our libraries," Duncan says.  "Yours is very fine, but I have some texts that you do not."

"Yes, I suppose that is logical," Seabrook says.

"Do you read much?" Duncan asks. "For pleasure, I mean."

He doesn't want to be accused of calling Seabrook ignorant.

"Not very often," Seabrook says. "Feel free to organize the books to your liking. I don't know that anyone would object."

"Thank you," Duncan says.  He wants to continue the conversation, but nothing else comes to mind to speak to Seabrook about.  He reminds himself that at least it's an improvement over last night. 

It takes three days before the library is satisfactory for Duncan, and in that time meals with Seabrook are the only time they ever really see each other. And that's fine, they're quite good at behaving civilly to each other.

Once the project is complete, Duncan and Mowgli are both getting a little stir crazy, so he sets out for a ride, further exploring the land around the manor. He's just surveying for now, trying to figure out where the warrens are most likely hidden.

He returns to the house just in time to see Seabrook get clobbered by the ungrateful hand of a boy wielding a wooden broadsword.

Duncan frowns.  He may not love Seabrook, but they're still married, and he doesn't want to see the man hurt. 

Seabrook doesn't seem to mind though - he's sitting in the dirt of the yard, laughing.

His first instinct is to check that Seabrook is unharmed, but the laughter makes that obvious enough and his interference would probably not be appreciated.

Still, he can't help but ask after it at dinner. "That was quite a blow you took in the yard. I trust you're well?"

"It's nothing," Seabrook says stiffly.  He must think better of it, though, because he unbuttons his shirt enough to show off the purple and blue mark on his shoulder.  "The bruise is quite impressive, though."

"Indeed," Duncan says.  "I haven't seen a bruise that dramatic since I was thrown by my horse last summer."

"What did you do to deserve being thrown?" Seabrook asks. But it's light and teasing.

"The jump wasn't that high, but she spooked," Duncan says. "My mother was quite distressed."

"You're lucky you didn't break your back."

"That is in fact what she said. But I attempted the jump again the next week and it went fine."

Seabrook frowns.  "Do you still do jumps like that?"

"Sometimes," Duncan says.  "Less these days, though."

"Hmm."  
   
"I'm quite the skilled horseman, if I do say so myself. I put myself into fewer dangerous situations on horseback than you do trying to get scrawny fourteen year olds to hit you with a broadsword."  
   
"It was just wood. Had it been steel he would have impaled himself upon it before he could harm me," Seabrook says with exasperated fondness.

"Wood can still break a man's head," Duncan says.  "Although you see perfectly capable of protecting yourself."

"Even from the fiercest of fourteen year olds," Seabrook agrees.

Duncan can't help smiling, but he directs it down to his plate.

"So you've finished rearranging the library?"

"For the most part. I would like to put more seating in there, but I'm not yet sure which rooms to scavenge from."

Seabrook waves a hand. "Ask the stewards, they'll know which ones collect the most dust."

"Thank you," Duncan says.  "That's a good idea."

Duncan takes a few more bites of his dinner.

"You know," Seabrook says suddenly, "I don't know if you have any interest in sword play, but you are more than welcome to join me at the morning practice."

"It's not my favorite," Duncan says, "but I should probably continue to practice it occasionally."

"I promise to shield you from over eager adolescents."

Duncan's almost disappointed when they finish the meal. It's been nice to talk with Seabrook without it descending into bitter sniping.

 

He resolves to make it to sword practice the next morning, in hopes that they can continue their friendly conversation.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been joking when he had told Seabrook it wasn't his favorite.  It's not long at all before his shoulders are aching from swinging the heavy practice swords.

"Here, let me get that," Seabrook says, coming up behind Duncan and catching his arm.

Duncan is slightly embarrassed. "It's been sometime since I picked up a broadsword."

"You prefer the bow," Seabrook nods.

Duncan didn't think he would've noticed that, since he hasn't had cause to use it while out riding. "Yes."

"I've never been very good with a bow," Seabrook says thoughtfully.  "Perhaps you will have to teach me."

"I- yes, of course," Duncan says.  "Any time you like."

That earns him a smile, and Duncan is feeling very pleased with himself.

 

He has the targets set up on the far side of the training yard a few days later, when his arms no longer scream when he tries to dress himself, and goes searching for an appropriate bow for a man of Seabrook's strength.

When Seabrook picks up the bow and aims an arrow at the targets, it's obvious to Duncan why he isn't having any success.  His stance is crooked, and it's not allowing his actions to be repeatable.

"Try moving this foot here," Duncan suggests.

"Like this?" Seabrook asks.

"No, the other direction - no, here," Duncan moves to stand directly behind Seabrook and nudges his foot into place with his own.

"Now adjust your shoulders to - yes, here," Duncan rests his hands on Seabrook's shoulders. They're very broad and warm and suddenly Duncan finds himself thinking of their wedding night.

He steps back quickly. "Now try."

Seabrook shoots, and he hits the target.  Not in the middle, but it's improvement.

Immediately, he turns to grin at Duncan.  "You're a miracle worker," he says earnestly.

"Now you've gone and moved out of your stance," Duncan tells him, hoping that he's not blushing.

"Like this, right?" Seabrook gets back into a stance. It's better than before but Duncan still uses his hands to adjust him.

It goes like that a few more times, to a point where Duncan's sure he's doing it on purpose.

But he can't imagine why. 

Despite Seabrook's muscles, he's not used to the specific way the bow pulls and his hands and shoulders, and it's not long before he's putting the bow down and shaking his head regretfully.

"You're getting there," Duncan says.  "A few weeks of practice, and you'll be hitting the center every time."

"Tomorrow morning," Seabrook promises.  "Will you assist me again?"

"Of course," Duncan says.

And as he goes to bed with Mowgli curled up at his feet, Duncan finds himself looking forward to spending the morning with Seabrook again.

Unfortunately, when he awakes, he finds that they have a house guest.

"Andrew Ladd, sir," the steward explains. "An old friend of our lord's, he arrived late last night."

"I see," Duncan says. 

He goes out to the yard anyway, just in case Seabrook is keeping up archery like he said he would, but instead he finds Seabrook and another tall man bashing away at each other with the wooden swords.  He leans against the doorway for a few minutes, but neither seems to notice him.

Andrew Ladd, he presumes.

"Marriage has made you soft, Seabs," Ladd says, striking Seabrook soundly on the ribs.

"It has not!" Seabrook protests, retaliating with a shot to Ladd's shoulder.

"Would you be wasting your time on archery otherwise?" Ladd asks, landing several glancing blows.

Duncan scowls at that. Archery takes more skill than the damn broadswords.

"Merely expanding my repertoire. It's good to have multiple means of attack," Seabrook replies, shoving Ladd to the ground with one hand. 

Ladd clearly doesn't believe in the rules of gentlemanly combat, because his next move is to sweep Seabrook's legs out from underneath him.  Seabrook lands hard on the dirt, and Duncan winces, but he must be okay because in a quick move, he's straddling Ladd and pinning his shoulders to the ground and - Duncan can't watch any more of this. 

"Is this how you treat guests in your house, Seabrook?"

"He's not a guest, he's Ladd," Seabrook says, barely moving.

Ladd shoves Seabrook off of him - "You're getting fat," - and dusts himself off. "I didn't mean to intrude," Seabrook snorts at that, "but I was in the neighborhood and thought I might impose on an old friend."

"Why don't you introduce us?" Duncan says pointedly.

"Andrew Ladd, my oldest and best friend," Seabrook says, putting his arm over Ladd's shoulders.  "Duncan Keith, my husband."

"I've heard a lot about you," Ladd says with a deep nod.

Duncan isn't sure that's a good thing. "I can't say the same, I'm sorry."

Ladd smacks Seabrook.  "What, am I your dirty little secret or something?"

"You just never came up," Seabrook says stiffly.  Not surprising, since Seabrook and Duncan have just begun to manage civil conversation on neutral topics.  

And he has a sneaking suspicion that Ladd isn't a neutral topic. "Are you planning on staying long?"

"My horse could probably use a few days rest," Ladd says.

Duncan forces a smile to his face, "Well then, I'll go hunting for something extra for meals."

Ladd makes a face at that, but Duncan doesn't know what his objection is.  "I'll keep Seabsie company while you're gone, then."

"I'll be back soon," Duncan says, which isn't really an answer, but he doesn't want Ladd getting any ideas.

 

His shot is straight and true, unfortunately for the rabbits, and Duncan almost wishes he could stay out longer, but he doesn't want to leave Ladd along with Seabrook for an extended period of time.  
   
The kitchen accepts the rabbits gratefully, though they have plenty of food in their stores, and Duncan is left to debate searching out his husband and his companion or retreating to the library.

He decides against the library.  This is his home too, and he's not going to hide himself away.

Duncan finds Ladd and Seabrook in one of the cozier sitting rooms.  Ladd's in the middle of a story, and Seabrook is laughing.  He looks good, and Duncan hates that Ladd made him look so happy.

He frowns, because he's not sure where this is coming from. He doesn't actually want Seabrook to be miserable all the time, but he doesn't like Ladd being the one to make him laugh like that.

And it's rather inappropriate for him to be so familiar with another man's husband.

Duncan understands that they were companions as bachelors, but Ladd should have had enough respect for Seabrook's marriage to give him some distance for propriety's sake.

And Seabrook - well, he should have enforced the boundaries if Ladd wasn't going to.

"Duncan, quit hovering and come sit down," Seabrook says.  
   
He does, if only because he's embarrassed to have been caught lurking in the doorway.  
   
"Was your hunting a success?" Ladd asks politely.

"Couple of good rabbits," Duncan says.

"Brent says you've been teaching him archery," Ladd says.

"Trying to," Duncan says.

"Apparently my technique needs work," Seabrook says.  
   
Ladd raises an eyebrow at that and Duncan wants to hit him. "His stance."  
   
"Of course."

"I've been working on his swordsmanship in return," Seabrook says.

"Oh?" Ladd says.  "Than you and I should test each other tomorrow.  See how we match up."

"Swords aren't really Duncan's -"  
   
"I accept," Duncan says, cutting off Seabrook's evaluation of his skills. "And then we can see how handy you are with a bow."  
   
"Very well," Ladd agrees.  
   
Seabrook sighs.

"And I'll come along to make sure neither of you do serious damage," Seabrook says.  "Now, how about some lunch?"

Duncan goes along with it, but he doesn't like the way Ladd is watching him over the meal.

He doesn't want to leave them alone all afternoon, but he can't actually think of a reason to stick around. And, he realizes, he doesn't even know what Seabrook does most afternoons.

And he wants to practice with the broadsword a bit.

 

The men-at-arms are happy to give him some tips, even if they seem a little skeptical about his overall skill level.  He's happily sore by the time it's time to bathe and dress for dinner, and he makes sure to spend extra time on getting his hair to lie right before heading to the dining room.  Mowgli wants to follow along, and he lets her. 

"The two of you and your dogs," Ladd says as Duncan and Mowgli take their seats. "It's a wonder there's any room in the marital bed."

Seabrook turns red and coughs and Duncan lifts his drink to his mouth so as to obscure his face. 

"Tell me about your family, Ladd," Duncan says, and he thinks he sees Seabrook gave him a grateful look.

"They live far to the west," Seabrook offers.  "Four days for the route riders."

"Are you headed there?" Duncan asks.

"My father has requested my presence, we appear to have new neighbors that I'm meant to meet."

"Ah," Duncan says. He finds himself looking forward to Ladd taking himself far from their home. 

"We wish the best of luck on your journey," Duncan says.

"But not just yet.  We have catching up to do," Seabrook says.

Duncan isn't sure he wants to hear what Seabrook's going to tell Ladd about their wedding tour, so he finishes his meal and retires to his room with Mowgli and a few books from his library. 

 

He gets up early the next morning and heads down to the training yard.  Mowgli whines when he gets out of bed, but Duncan doesn't want to be shown up by Ladd having to wait around for him. 

He's surprised when Seabrook meets him in the hall. He's probably going to tell Duncan not to do this.

"Yes?" he asks shortly.

"Ladd's a bit weak on the left side," Seabrook says. "And try not to kill each other."

"The swords are wooden," Duncan points out, confused by Seabrook's advice and concern.

"I'm sure you'd find a way."

Duncan spends a few minutes in the training yard warming up before Ladd arrives.  He looks between Seabrook and Duncan and smirks.

"I wouldn't have thought you two would be up this early," he says.

"Let's just do this," Duncan says.

Duncan's at a pretty solid disadvantage, due to lack of experience, but he doesn't embarrass himself, and is able to defend most of Ladd's blows.

He's pleased with himself when he lands a hit against Ladd's ribs and elicits a grunt.

He thinks about what Seabrook said, about Ladd being weak on the left, and he concentrates his attacks there.  He sees that Ladd's parry is sloppy, especially if he's making it after one of his own blows towards Duncan's left.

Duncan increases the speed of their exchange, leaving his left open enough to tempt Ladd into an attack there so Duncan can follow with his own thrust to Ladd's belly.  Unfortunately, he gets so caught up in his plan he completely misses the parry for Ladd's wild cut against his flank that sends him sprawling.

"That's enough!" Seabrook yells out.

"I'm fine," Duncan says with a grunt.

"We're just getting started," Ladd says. "Aren't we?"

Duncan would like nothing better than to use the hilt of his practice sword to bash that smug look right off Ladd's face.

Seabrook steps closer.  "Laddy, you said you were going to do an archery challenge too, remember?  I think it's time you moved on to that."

"Fine," Ladd says, throwing down his sword.  "Let's go."

Mowgli whines next to Seabrook, who scratches her head as the pages put the swords away.

The targets are still set up, and Duncan walks over as normally as possible, not wanting to hint at any injury to satisfy Ladd.

"Guests first," Duncan says graciously. He's confident in his abilities, but still wants to observe the competition.

Ladd's good, better than Seabrook, but not as good as Duncan is.  His arrows cluster around the center of the target, but not as tightly as Duncan usually puts them.

Ladd scowls and hands the bow to Duncan, who tries not to wince as he gives it a test drawl.

They should've done the archery first, Duncan realizes as his shot lands slightly off center. Still close, but not as close as he'd like. He takes a moment to stretch and takes a deep breath before setting up his next shot. 

Once he's compensated for his soreness, he's able to land the rest of his shots nearly on center, a clear victory over Ladd. Seabrook claps loudly for him, and Duncan is pleased, but it's not quite the over all victory he wanted.

"Why don't we see to some lunch?" Seabrook asks before Duncan or Ladd can suggest a tie breaker.

For a moment Duncan thinks that Seabrook is going to have to drag Ladd in - and if Ladd wants to go again, Duncan is going to go - but Ladd turns to the house.

"Fine," he says.  "We can go eat whatever Duncan provided with his archery skill."

Duncan smirks and Seabrook rolls his eyes, but his hand brushes gently over Duncan's shoulder, dusting him off.

The rabbit is quite good, and Duncan notices Ladd going back for extra portions at least as often as Duncan himself.

"I'm going to have to read one of your books to read this afternoon, Duncan, I have a feeling you'll both be less entertaining," Seabrook says.

"What's mine is yours," Duncan says. He's rather protective of his books, but he doubts that Seabrook will actually bother to pick one up.

"Reading, Seabs?" Ladd asks. "You'll be sleeping just as soundly as either of us before a quarter hour has passed.

After lunch, Seabrook follows Duncan to the library, almost defiantly.  

"That chair is the most comfortable," Duncan says, pointing to the soft one under the window.

"Thanks," Seabrook says.  "Do you have a book to recommend too?"

"I..." Duncan's surprised at that. And he has no idea what Seabrook might enjoy in a book. He looks around for a moment, before plucking a book off a table near the chair. "This one."  
   
"But you're in the middle of it?" Seabrook asks, flicking the scrap of cloth Duncan has used to mark his place. "I'm not the swiftest reader, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."  
   
"I've read it before," Duncan says. Dozens of times, he doesn't say. "I think you might like it."  
   
It's suddenly very important to him that Seabrook does.  
   
"Oh, well, thank you."

Seabrook settles in with the book, and Duncan grabs something else off the shelf for himself.  And if he chooses a seat where he can watch Seabrook read, well, Seabrook doesn't seem to notice. 

He reads slowly, he wasn't lying about that, but Duncan is pleased every time he sees him turn a page.

"Is your book uninteresting?" Seabrook asks, startling Duncan.

"Ah, no. My fatigue is limiting my attention span, I fear." It could be the truth.

Seabrook frowns.  "I should have let you rest," he says, "rather than ask you to attend me in the library."

"It's fine," Duncan says.  "I really don't mind."

"I'd just be reading in bed, any how," Duncan adds.

"At least you'd be in bed.”

Duncan shrugs.  "It wouldn't be the first time I've fallen asleep reading in a library."

"You should take better care of yourself," Seabrook says, and his face is stern but his voice is teasing.

"Why do you think I had them move a couch in here?" Duncan asks. Mowgli and Stanley are currently sprawled across it, but Duncan's been in that position before.

Seabrook looks at their dogs. "I think those two have the most sense of anyone in this room." 

"Stanley, down," Seabrook calls.  Stanley gives him a long look before hopping off the couch.  "I can't promise he'll stay down, but as long as you're willing to share...."

Duncan feels a little bad for Stanley, but the couch does sound awfully nice.  And Mowgli is used to sharing with him.

Of course, as soon as he's lying down, feet tucked under Mowgli, Stanley curls up on his chest.

"Oof," Stanley's heavier than he looks. And he's sitting on the edge of what will probably be bruises soon. 

"Stanley," Seabrook says. "Stop bothering Duncan."

But he's warm, too, so Duncan scratches his neck, "It's fine, really."

He goes back to his book but within four pages he's drifting off. 

He's not sure how much later it is when he wakes up, but Stanley is still asleep on his chest.  He turns his head to see that Seabrook is still sitting in the chair, but he's put the book down.

"No good?" Duncan asks.

"Um, no, it is," Seabrook says quickly. "The light dimmed a bit and I- I was taking a little break."

"Oh," Duncan says.

Seabrook licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Ladd comes strolling in. "Well don't you two look scholarly." 

"You should try it sometime," Seabrook says.  "It might be good for you."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt," Ladd says. "You look so cozy."

"Did you need something?" Duncan asks. He doubts he looks as imperious as he'd like when buried under two dogs.

"I thought I'd see what you two were up to, wouldn't want to miss the chance to hang out with Seabs before I leave tomorrow."

"So soon?" Duncan asks, trying to hide how pleased he is.

"Tomorrow?" Seabrook asks. He sounds a little disappointed. 

Ladd shrugs.  "A message from my father arrived this afternoon, sent four days ago.  He says I shouldn't delay on my travel."

Duncan is pretty sure that Seabrook is flat out pouting.

"Perhaps," he finds himself saying, "we can come visit you in a few months."

There are few things he can imagine himself wanting to do less, but the suggestion is worth it for the look of surprise on Ladd's face and the smile on Seabrook's.

"You're always welcome," Ladd says to Seabrook. 

"Duncan too," Seabrook says levelly.

"Fine, Duncan too.  Now can we please hang out before I leave tomorrow?"

It's not the most sincere of invitations, but Duncan is pleased nonetheless.

"Go," Duncan says. "I'm in need of a bath."

Between the fighting and the napping with the dogs, he's quite sure he'd put someone off their meal if he waited until after dinner.

"Here, let me," Seabrook says, leaning over Duncan and lifting Stanley off his chest. 

"Thank you," Duncan says, avoiding Seabrook's eye. 

 

He ends up spending a long time soaking in the tub. It won't do anything for the bruises, but at least it should help his stiffness tomorrow.  By the time he finally convinces himself to get out of the water and get dressed, the steward has come in to announce that dinner is almost served. 

He doesn't let himself get run out of the dining room as soon as they're finished, instead he makes a point of matching Ladd and Seabrook drink for drink.

"Someone is trying to be fun," Ladd says.

"Someone is trying to make sure he gets a share of his own collection before it disappears," Duncan corrects. Because even if these are Seabrook's stores, they're more Duncan's than they are Ladd's. 

Duncan's never seen Seabrook this drunk before - they hadn't exactly done a lot of celebrating on their honeymoon, mostly just polite toasting.  But now he's smiling and laughing and teasing Ladd, and Duncan can't stop watching. 

He really is quite handsome, Duncan thinks, even if his hair is kind of a mess. Duncan wouldn't mind trying to fix it a little, it looks very soft.

"Seabsie, your husband's starting to sway."

“'mnot swaying," Duncan protests, putting his hand down firmly on the table. 

"I'll help you to bed," Seabrook announces.  He stands, and Duncan doesn't think he looks quite steady either.

"I'm not the only one who needs help," Duncan says.

"I can make sure he gets to bed safely," Ladd offers.

"No," Duncan says, grabbing Seabrook's arm

Ladd smirks.  "I'll leave you two to it, then." He leaves the hall, walking mostly in a straight line.

"C'mon, Seabrook," Duncan says.  "Let's get to bed, eh?"

"You're drunk," Seabrook says, as Duncan leans heavily on him.

"And you're my husband." 

"So?" Seabrook says.  "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Ladd shouldn't -  I'm the one who's supposed to take you to bed."  Duncan can't really explain why the thought of that is so upsetting, but it is.

"Pretty sure I'm the one putting you to bed," Seabrook says, shouldering the door to Duncan's room open.

"Same thing," Duncan says.

Mowgli is already sprawled across the bed and Duncan frowns at her. "She's in my spot."

"It's a big bed, there's room," Seabrook says. 

Seabrook dumps him on the bed, earning him a look from Mowgli, then reaches down to pull off Duncan's boots.

"There's room," Duncan says.  "If you can't make it to yours on your own."

Seabrook licks his lips. "You're drunk."

"So are you. And my bed is very comfortable."

"Not as drunk as you," Seabrook says. "Maybe later, eh?"

He leaves, closing the door gently behind him, and Duncan absolutely does not pout.  Mowgli moves over closer to him, and that at least makes Duncan feel better.  At least his dog loves him.

 

When he wakes the next morning, there's light coming in through his windows and his head is pounding.

Then he makes the mistake of moving and it's not just his head. His whole body hurts and Duncan wonders if he can get Mowgli to close the curtains so he doesn't have to get up to do it.

One of the servants comes bustling in with a tray of food and goes immediately to block out the light. "I thought m'lord might prefer to eat in his chambers this morning."

"Thank you," Duncan says.  "And, do you think you can manage a hot bath?"

"Of course," the man tells him.  

Duncan picks at his food.  He's not very hungry, but it's obvious that whoever put the tray together is well used to cooking for the hungover.

It isn't until he's in the bath soaking his aching muscles and watching the bruises turn lurid colors that he remembers wanting Seabrook to come to bed with him.

And Seabrook saying no. 

Duncan is mortified and wonders if it would be possible to drown himself in the tub.

With his luck, though, Mowgli would probably save him, and then he'd have to explain himself, and that would be even more mortifying.

He does give himself permission to try and avoid Seabrook for the rest of the day, though.

He misses Ladd's departure, but finds he isn't overly bothered by it, despite the apparent rudeness. Duncan also missed his arrival, and no one cared about that.

He spends the day reading, but can't think of a reason to avoid dinner, and has to steel himself for an awkward meal. Hopefully Seabrook will be gentleman enough to not bring up Duncan's embarrassing behavior the night before.

If he does, Duncan decides, he'll just feign ignorance to the whole situation.

It's not the most awkward dinner - that honor has to go to the first few nights at home together - but it's not one of the best, either.

"That was quite the party last night," Seabrook says.  "I find I can't recall much past the halfway point of the evening."

Duncan nearly sags in relief. "Nor I. I don't think I've drunk that much since my brother's wedding, and I was younger then."

Seabrook gives him a tight smile. "We're getting old."

"My shoulders and ribs are certainly feeling less young than they used to, today," Duncan admits.

"Have you had the cook's salve?" Seabrook asks.  "I find it does much good for bruises."

"Oh, no," Duncan says. "I spent most of the day abed trying not to move."

"I'll have some sent to you," Seabrook says. "I use it quite often after training with the men."

"Thank you," Duncan says.  

Seabrook shrugs.  "It's the least I can do, since it was my friend who was responsible for your injuries."

"It's at least a little my fault," Duncan says.  "I did accept his challenge."

"A surprising choice," Seabrook says. "But I find you're full of surprises."

Duncan isn't sure if that's a compliment or not.

He shrugs.  "I guess I am."

"When you are recovered, you should spend more time at the practice courts with me," Seabrook says. 

"Are you expecting more martial friends?" Duncan teases.

"No, but I wasn't expecting Ladd to show up, either."

Duncan is proud of himself for not frowning. "True, and I better be in a position to defend myself further when he returns next."

"I'm not sure I like the idea or watching the two of you go for each others throats becoming a tradition."

Duncan shrugs.  "I've no problem with him, so it's on him to change that."

Seabrook stares at him a moment, then bursts out laughing.  "Duncan Keith, did you just try to use 'he started it' as an excuse?"

Duncan huffs. "No, I'm not a child."

He takes a bite of food before adding, "But it was his idea, and I could hardly impugn my family honor by turning him down."

"Well I'll consider our honor well protected for now."

At the end of the meal, Seabrook asks him again to come to practice in the morning.  "We'll take it easy, I promise," he says.

"As long as it's not too early," Duncan says.

 

They fall into an easy sort of friendship, which Duncan never would've expected before their marriage. It's nice.

But he can't bring himself to push for more, after what happened when Ladd was staying with them. So he finds himself rather frustrated, constantly.

They have an easy routine, training together in the mornings, alternating between fencing and shooting, and then spending the afternoons dealing with the estate's business or reading in the library if there is no business.

Whenever the wanting gets bad, he reminds himself that at least he's friends with his husband, and that's better than lots of people get.

It's harder to remember that as the weather gets warmer and Seabrook takes to taking his shirt off as they drill, though.

Duncan takes out some of his frustration on the local game around the manor.

They're eating well, at least.

He's out riding one day the week before his birthday when his horse gets spooked by... something, Duncan doesn't get a chance to see, because she takes off at full speed through the trees.

He's doing his best to reign her in, but he ends up getting clocked by a tree branch and falling hard to the ground. There's a sickening crack that he's pretty sure wasn't a tree branch.

He tries to stand, but it quickly becomes obvious that his leg won't hold his weight at all.  He calls for his horse, but it seems as if she's long gone.  

That's not the end of the world, he tells himself.  When she makes it back to her stable - as he has no doubt she will - the empty saddle will show that something has gone wrong.  From there, it's just a matter of time - he's not so far out as to confound searchers for days. And it's a warm day, warm enough that he's sure the night will be tolerable as well.

He settles into a shady spot as comfortably as he can and takes inventory of his wounds. He's bleeding sluggishly in a few places, but nothing that looks life threatening. His shoulder is killing him and obviously he can't put pressure on his leg, but he thinks he'll be all right, once someone finds him and gets a doctor to tend to him.

As his heart rate slows and the rush wears off, the pain makes itself more and more known.

He digs in his belt pouch, but no luck - he's all out of the pain capsules.  There's nothing for him to do but wait and watch the shadows move.

 

By the time the sun is starting to set, he's wondering if it would have been a better idea to try to get himself home on his own.  And then he hears a dog crashing through the underbrush.

He struggles to sit up a bit more, so he has a better view of things around him. Sure enough, there's Mowgli racing through the brush.

"Mowgli!" he calls out weakly. "Hey girl."

She barks loudly at him and Duncan can hear voices following her. "Mowgli! Duncan!"

Mowgli sniffs him, then very gently lies down next to him.  

"Good dog," he says weakly, rubbing her ears.  "Best dog."

He pets her with the arm that doesn't hurt to move, and she whines. 

Someone calls her name again and she barks again, before licking his face.

"Duncan! Duncan, oh thank god," Seabrook says as he emerges from the trees.

"Finally," Duncan says.  "I was starting to worry about your tracking skills."

"Where are you hurt?" Seabrook asks, ignoring his attempts at humor.  "Can you walk?"

"No," Duncan says.  "Shoulder, leg."  He gestures with his good arm.

Seabrook grimaces. "Wait here, I'll find a horse."  
   
He begins to step away, and Duncan has to tamp down on the urge to ask him not to. It's irrational, Seabrook is coming back, he's helping him, he can't help Duncan until he leaves and comes back.  
   
Seabrook pauses though, "Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"Thirsty," Duncan admits.

"Right," Seabrook says.  "Of course.  I'll bring water too."  He pauses, but he must see the look on Duncan's face, because he continues.  "I'll be right back, I promise, Duncan.  I'm not going to leave you out here."

Sure enough, he's back in just a few minutes, leading a horse and carrying a canteen of water.  He hands the water to Duncan, who drinks gratefully.

"Do you think you can ride?" Seabrook asks.

Duncan looks at the horse.  It's not one of his hunters, but one of the rock solid older mares that can't be startled by anything, and, frankly, all the horse he can handle right now.  "I'll manage," he says.

Seabrook has to help him on to her back, because he can't put enough weight on his leg to properly mount her. It's embarrassing to be as weak as this, but Seabrook's hands are strong and steady.

Seabrook takes the leader and starts walking them back towards the house, and it takes everything Duncan has left in him to stay up right. Mowgli is trailing behind Seabrook but constantly looks back to Duncan to make sure he's still there.  
   
"Best dog," he says again.

"She led me straight to you," Seabrook says.  "When she saw your horse come in without you, she wouldn't stop whining at me until I was on my way."

"'S'what I get for not taking her with me in the first place," Duncan says.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Seabrook says. "We found you, we're here now. We'll get you home and fixed up."

"You can go faster," Duncan says.

"If we go any faster you'll get bumped around more and it'll hurt more."

"Not sure that's possible."

Seabrook gives him a long look before picking up the pace a little. It does hurt more, but it's going to get him to his bed and painkillers faster, so Duncan can deal. 

It's solidly dark by the time they reach the house, and Duncan is swaying in the saddle.  Seabrook leads them up to the door, then pauses.

"If I could, I'd take you straight in to your room like this," he says, "but I don't think there's enough clearance."

"Can walk, just -" Duncan begins.

But before he can finish Seabrook has hauled him off the horse and is carrying him through the halls. Duncan doesn't have the energy to be embarrassed or even to enjoy it. He must black out for a little while, because he misses how Seabrook gets him up the stairs, the next thing he knows the doctor is there setting his leg.

"You probably want to pass out again," Seabrook says, moving Duncan's hair from where it's stuck to his forehead. "This isn't going to be fun." 

"Just do it," Duncan says.

Seabrook takes his good hand, then nods at the doctor.  Duncan has a moment to appreciate the calluses on Seabrook's hands, and then he's not thinking about much at all.

He doesn't scream, but it's a near thing, and he clamps down on Seabrook's hand like it's his only lifeline through the pain.

"That's it, Dunc, see, he's done, you gonna be fine, just fine," Seabrook says, talking low steady, as if Duncan were a horse that needed soothing.

"The good news," the doctor begins, "is that your shoulder doesn't appear to be broken, but I'm going to need to immobilize it for the time being."

Which means Seabrook gets to help cut up Duncan's shirt - he liked that shirt. "I'll get you a new one just like it." 

The doctor examines Duncan's shoulder again, but in the end still concludes it's not broken.

"But you still can't use it for a few weeks," he tells Duncan.  "I'm going to wrap it, and you need to wear a sling whenever you're not in bed."

Duncan's not looking forward to that, but he also can't really imagine getting out of bed anytime soon, even with his leg set and wrapped.

"For now, just rest and I'll be by again tomorrow to make sure everything is still going well."

Duncan nods and Seabrook stands to see the doctor out, speaking quietly with one of the maids before returning to his seat by Duncan's bed.

"We'll get you some dinner and your books, and you can rest." 

It's only a few minutes before one of the cook's assistants comes in with a tray of bread, fruit, and cheese, all cut into small pieces for a man who can only use one hand.  Seabrook helps Duncan get the tray situated where he can reach it easily, then makes sure he can reach the books as well.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Seabrook says.  "I know you must be tired."

"Stay a little longer, please?" Duncan asks.  "If you don't mind.  Just - the woods, I was alone, and, just- please stay."

"Of course," Seabrook says. "I'm sorry, we came to find you as soon as your horse returned alone, but it wasn't easy, and I don't know how long she ran before she came back."

"It's not your fault. She spooked and I lost a fight with a tree," Duncan says, as lightly as possible while picking at his food.

"Save your fights for the training yard," Seabrook says. "Or saplings."

Duncan smiles weakly. He eats as much as possible before his limbs get too heavy and staying awake is more effort than it's worth. 

Seabrook must be able to tell that he's fading, because he picks up a book and settles more deeply into his chair.  He's still there when Duncan falls asleep.

 

Duncan wakes up the next morning feeling like - well, like he fell off his horse, hit a tree, and broke a few bones.  He opens his eyes, and discovers that Seabrook is still in the chair by his bed, asleep this time.

Duncan winces for him, because there's no reason both of the them should wake up in pain. He doesn't see a reason for him to bring that on Seabrook any sooner than necessary, so he makes no move to wake him.

Besides, Duncan kind of likes having the opportunity to watch his husband sleep. 

His hair has fallen into his eyes, and he's snoring lightly.  The overall effect is rather charming, Duncan supposes.

Seabrook must feel Duncan watching him, though, because it's not long before he opens his eyes.  He turns toward Duncan, and Duncan can see the moment he realizes that Duncan's awake.

"Do you need anything?  You should have woken me," Seabrook says.

Duncan shakes his head. "I'm fine."  
   
Seabrook raises a skeptical eyebrow.  
   
"Except for the obvious."  
   
"The doctor should be back soon, we'll see if he has anything to give you for the pain."

Duncan shrugs - or tries to, since he only has working shoulder.  "It's not too bad."

Seabrook rolls his eyes.  "Whatever you say.  How do you feel about breakfast?"

"I could eat," Duncan admits.

Seabrook puts in the request with a servant in the hall, and then settles back down in the chair next to Duncan, as though he plans on eating there, too.  
   
"The doctor will be by in an hour or so," Seabrook says as they eat.  
   
Duncan nods. "Don't you need to go train with the men?" he asks, as he realizes the time.  
   
"They'll be fine without me for a day," Seabrook says.

Duncan frowns.  "You don't need to re-arrange your entire routine just for me," he says.  "I'm sure the staff will do an excellent job of taking care of me."

"I don't mind," Seabrook says.

Duncan allows himself to feel a little bit pleased at Seabrook's attention. Something might as well feel good, because god knows enough of him is in pain.  
   
   
Fortunately the doctor does bring something for the pain, but he won't let Duncan take any until after he's been re-examined. He won't cry out in pain, but he can't hide the sweat or the way he shakes trying to hold it in. Duncan's not sure when Seabrook takes his hand, but it's appreciated nonetheless.

Finally the doctor is done examining him, and Duncan can breathe again.

"Nothing looks worse than it did last night," the doctor says.  "You're still on track for a couple of weeks laid up, though."

"But it's summer," Duncan says, as though that has any bearing on how quickly his bones will heal. "There are things that need to be done."  
   
"They'll get done," Seabrook promises.  
   
Duncan doesn't like feeling like an invalid, and opens his mouth to say so, but Seabrook cuts him off. "And you'll get dumped with all of the boring organizational and counting related tasks. I'm not that nice."  
   
   
Duncan's not sure that's true, especially after the pain relief the doctor gives him finally kicks in, and his vision starts blurring as he tries to focus on his book. He's about to give up with Seabrook plucks it from his hand. "Shall I read to you then?"

"I'll probably fall asleep," Duncan warns him.

"Then when you wake up, you'll have to tell me what you remember," Seabrook says.

Seabrook's voice is steady and comforting, even as the words become harder to pick out. Duncan will probably have to start the book over himself, once he's off the doctor's drugs, but he won't tell Seabrook to stop.  
   
As he drifts off, he thinks maybe he feels Seabrook's hand on his again, but all his nerves are dulled at this point, so it's hard to tell.

When he wakes up, there's no one reading, and he thinks for a moment that Seabrook has finally found something else to do with his time.  But then he hears the rustle of pages turning, and it turns out Seabrook is still sitting there, reading silently.

"So how long have you been in that chair?" Duncan asks.  "Eighteen hours now?"

Seabrook's cheeks look a little flushed. "Not quite. And I have gotten up."  
   
"To answer the door," Duncan says.  
   
"I walked around for a while while you slept," Seabrook says. "I just...didn't want you to wake up alone."

"Thank you," Duncan says.  "That's very - it's very thoughtful of you."

"Plus," Seabrook says, "they're trying to get me to make a decision on the line between the farms to the south, you know, the one they keep arguing about.  This way I can avoid them."

"They'll find you eventually if you don't move around," Duncan points out.  
   
"If they come knocking, I'll hide under your bed."  
   
Duncan can think of better places than under the bed for Seabrook to be.

"I'll tell them I need you to care for me," Duncan promises solemnly.  After all, it's almost true.  "I can swoon if need be."

Seabrook grins at that.  "I know you'd support me."

"It only seems fair, after you carried me up the stairs."  
   
Seabrook's cheeks go red again. "Well we had to get you to bed somehow.”

"I'm lucky you're so strong, then," Duncan says.  "I might have ended up spending my days in the living room."

"I couldn't do that!" Seabrook protests.  "Really.  It's not a big deal."

"I'd probably have to leave you in the living room," Duncan says. "So don't go breaking any legs."  
   
"I'll do my best," Seabrook says.  
   
"So uh, where's Mowgli?" Duncan asks. But as soon as he says her name, her head appears as she rises to her feet, and Stanley barks. "Hey girl, what are you doing down there?"  
   
"Didn't want her to disturb your leg," Seabrook says.

"She wouldn't," Duncan says.  "Come here, girl."  Mowgli jumps eagerly onto the bed when she hears her name, then lies down with her head on Duncan's hip.

"She really adores you," Seabrook says.

"Well, it's mutual," Duncan says, rubbing her ear. "She was the smallest of the litter when she was born. Not a runt, but just kind of scrawny. My father thought I was crazy for picking her, but it all worked out."  
   
"That sounds familiar," Seabrook says. "At least she's a pure hunting dog. Stanley was one of my aunt's lap dog's pups."  
   
"That explains so much."

"Yeah," Seabrook says, "he's not much to look at.  But he got himself caught in one of the traps for mice when he was just a pup, and I rescued him, and he's been following me around ever since."

"He's a good dog," Duncan says.

"You didn't even know he was a dog," Seabrook reminds him.  
   
"He's very...unique looking. I was surprised," Duncan defends.  
   
Seabrook scoops Stanley up, "You hear that, boy? Dunc says you're unique."  
   
Stanley woofs in Seabrook's face and Duncan grins.

"You seem to be feeling better," Seabrook says.

"Yeah," Duncan says.  "Maybe this afternoon I'll even feel up to getting some fresh air."

"I'll open a window," Seabrook says. "You're not meant to be getting out of bed more than is necessary."  
   
Duncan sighs. "Is that how it's going to be?"  
   
"That's how it's going to be. I don't want to re injuring yourself."

Duncan absolutely does not pout.  "And how long is that to be?"

"Until the doctor says otherwise.  But he's coming back to check on you the day after tomorrow, so we'll see how it's going then."

So Duncan is confined to his bed but it's not quite as boring as he'd thought it would be. Seabrook spends more time in his room than Duncan expected, and when books lose their interest, Seabrook introduces him to games he used to play with his brother as children.  
   
It doesn't take long for Duncan to pick up the rules and get very competitive. "You're cheating! I've got half a leg and you're cheating."  
   
"I'm pretty sure you've still got the two," Seabrook says. "And I'm not cheating, you're just bitter that you're losing.”

"No, show me your cards.  See? That's cheating."

Seabrook just laughs.  "Can I tell you a secret?"  When Duncan nods, he leans in close.  "The point is to cheat," he whispers.

Duncan huffs out a laugh and out of the corner of his eye he can see Seabrook grinning conspiratorially. "I told you, I played this with my brother."  
   
"So is he a scoundrel, too, or is it just you?"  
   
Their faces are awfully close together, and Duncan almost misses what Seabrook says next.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"My father sent him to the south, to learn governance," Seabrook says.  "Who knows what tricks he'll come back with."

"Ah," Duncan says. "Well, you'll just have to teach me your tricks so we can challenge him from both sides."

Seabrook smiles and Duncan wants nothing more than to kiss him, right then and there. But friendly though they are, he doesn't think Seabrook would go for it, or if he did, he'd do it because he feels bad for Duncan and his bed ridden state.

And Duncan wants so much more than a few pity kisses. When he's back on his feet he might have the chance to get Seabrook into bed for real, and presumably the sex would be better this time and maybe Seabrook wouldn't mind doing it regularly.

"Dunc? Duncan?" 

He blinks, realizing Seabrook has pulled back and looks concerned. "I should let you rest before you fall asleep sitting up.”

"I'm fine," Duncan protests.  

"You're falling asleep," Seabrook says.  "Don't worry, I'll still be here after your nap.

Duncan would protest more, but he could sleep and avoid having to explain what he was thinking about. And Seabrook will be staying.

"Thank you," he says, brushing his thumb over Seabrook's hand.

"Get some sleep," Seabrook says, squeezing his hand. 

As the days pass, Duncan needs the drugs less and Seabrook has to spend more time away, tending to the men and other household affairs.

Duncan is still stuck on bed rest, though he's allowed to walk around his room some, and it's not that he misses Seabrook exactly. Well. He does, but it's absurd, since it's not as though they normally spend all their waking hours together.

But he looks forward to Seabrook stealing some time and telling him about the outside world.

"I think I might try to do a bit of hunting," Seabrook says. "I'm better with the bow and it seems wrong to keep dipping into the stores when there's fresh meat to be had."

"Take Mowgli with you," Duncan says. "You might need her help."

Seabrook laughs.  "I'm not sure she'll do that for me."

"She will, if I ask her to," Duncan says.  "Besides, she needs the exercise."  

She whines next to him and he nudges her with his good knee. "Don't you want to go chase down some rabbits?"

Mowgli sighs and Seabrook laughs again. "Come on, girl, we need to get Duncs some good food so he can heal up."

She looks back and forth between them and hops off the bed. "That's my girl. "Now go show...Seabs how it's done."

He feels awkward, using the nickname he heard Ladd use, but it doesn't seem right to stick to such formality with Seabrook when he uses Duncan's given name and shortens it regularly.

Apparently he doesn't mind, as he's grinning at Duncan and petting the top of Mowgli's head. "We'll be back in a few hours." 

His room feels much lonelier with both of them gone.  He had been tolerating being cooped  up fairly well, but now that he's alone it's almost unbearable.  The doctor had said another week, and Duncan thinks he'll be counting each hour.

He's halfway through a re-read of his favorite novel when he hears a clattering on the stairs.  Mowgli bursts the door and hops on the bed, checking over Duncan.  She's got dirt on her paws and burrs in her coat.

Seabrook follows just after.  "I think she wants to make sure you're still here and that you survived without her," he says, laughing.

"Were you successful?" Duncan asks, already carding through her fur and picking out the burrs.

"You would have been more so, and done it in half the time, but we managed," Seabrook shrugs. "And I only broke two arrows."

"That's not bad at all," Duncan says. 

"It's all due to your teaching," Seabrook says.

"When I am healthy, you will have to repay me with more sword lessons," Duncan says.

"Gladly," Seabrook says with a smile that makes Duncan feel overly pleased with himself. 

Seabrook seats himself next to Duncan's bed.  "Now, remind me where we were in this book."

"I can read to myself these days," Duncan tells him.

"I like reading to you," Seabrook says.

The simple way he says that makes Duncan's stomach flip and he feels absolutely ridiculous. His own husband shouldn't make him feel like a blushing teenager. Duncan's not even sure he felt this way when he was a teen.  
   
"All right then," he says settling back against the pillows.

He likes listening to Seabrook read to him, even if he means he doesn't follow the story very well because he's too busy focusing on Seabrook's voice. 

Which is probably why it takes him a minute to catch on to the fact that Seabrook has in fact begun to recite a nursery rhyme that is definitely not in the book.  
   
"If you don't want me to read to you -"  
   
"No, I like it when you read to me," Duncan says. He doesn't know how to explain it without sounding like a smitten fool. "I like the sound of the words."  
   
Seabrook gives him a look. "You're a strange one."  
   
"You've known that for almost twenty years now," Duncan points out.

"Yes, but I didn't begin to understand just how strange until I started living with you," Seabrook grumbles.

"Does it - does it bother you?" Duncan asks.

"Bother me?" Seabrook asks. "Of course not. Why would it?"  
   
"It would seem that you might suit better with someone more like you, like...Ladd for example," Duncan finds himself saying.

Seabrook frowns.  "Ladd is one of my best friends.  I have no doubt that we would...suit, but suit better? No, just suit differently."  He pauses.  "Are you wishing you had someone better suited?" 

"No!" Duncan says quickly. "I used to," he admits, "when you spent your time pushing me around and proving how much better than me you were at...most things. But I'm...quite content now." 

"Me too," Seabrook says, smiling ruefully.  "We didn't get off to a very good start with things.  But I'm glad we're friends now." 

Friends. Duncan forces himself to smile. "Yes, everyone should be so lucky."  
   
"I'm going to go change out of these clothes," Seabrook says suddenly. "I'll be back before dinner."

When Seabrook comes back, Duncan has hauled himself to sit at the end of the bed.

"I think we should eat in the dining room today," he says.

"You know the dining room is downstairs, don't you?"

"It's been a while, but yes, I remember something of the sort."

"And then you'll have to get back up them, afterward."

"If you think it's a bad idea just say so."

"I think it's a bad idea."

"Well too bad," Duncan says, pushing himself to his feet. Well, mostly the one foot.

Seabrook's rolling his eyes, but when Duncan wobbles a little, he immediately puts his arm around Duncan's waist.  "Put your arm over my shoulders," he says.  "That way we have a chance of getting down the stairs without further injury." 

Duncan does, without comment, because it feels nice and also he's aware of how necessary it is. But he's not telling Seabrook that.  
   
It's an awkward shuffle out into the hall, but by the time they hit the stairs they've got a good rhythm down. He might lean on Seabrook more than is strictly necessary on the stairs, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Duncan is breathing hard by the time they get to the dining room.  He hadn't expected walking to be this hard.  

Seabrook helps him sit down, then moves away to his own chair.  Duncan is struck by the sudden loss of warmth from where he was pressed up against Seabrook's side.

It's strange to be seated so far away from him after the number of meals they'd taken at Duncan's bedside. In fact, it's probably the first time since his accident that they've been in the same room and so far from one another.  
   
Not far enough for Seabrook to miss his frown, though. "Is everything all right, are you in pain?"  
"I'm fine," Duncan says. "Just...getting used to eating at a table again."

"That's what happens when your most frequent companion is a hound," Seabrook says, shaking his head in mock sadness.  "You forget all your table manners."

"As if I had any in the first place," Duncan says.

"Better than mine," Seabrook says. "Do you know how often my mother asked me to be more like you?"

Duncan is appalled. "No wonder you hated me."

"I didn't hate you....much?"

Duncan smiles.  "Pretty sure you did."

"Maybe," Seabrook admits.  "But I got over it by the time I was a teenager."

"Really?" Duncan asks.  "Because I was fifteen when you broke my arm. If you didn't hate me, you had an odd way of showing it."

"You started it," Seabrook says even as he cringes.

"I don't recall breaking any of your bones, or pushing you out of trees. I left you alone."

"You ignored me," Seabrook says. "Anyway, it's not important we're friends now."

Duncan ignores his attempt at a subject change. "I wasn't ignoring you, just wanted you to leave me alone."

"By ignoring me," Seabrook says.

"What, was I supposed to be nice to the kid that pushed me out of trees?" Duncan demands.

"No, but you could have been nice to the seven year old who'd been told we were going to be great friends, instead of barely looking up from your book and disappearing half way through the day," Seabrook says.

Duncan doesn't remember much about meeting Seabrook for the first time, but he remembers being told that some kid coming to visit might be his future husband and being mortified by the thought.

"That wasn't about you -"

"Well I was seven so I may have missed some nuance," Seabrook says bitterly to his plate.

"And I was a grown adult at nine," Duncan snipes back. "I didn't want to get married - because I was nine - and tried to run away that afternoon."

"I tried to run away at least twice in anticipation of your visits," Seabrook says.  "I never made it farther than the garden wall."

"My nurse caught me on the back stairs," Duncan admits.

They share a smile and Duncan relaxes a little.  
   
"By the time we were teenagers," Seabrook says. "It was a mess."  
   
Duncan remembers the first time Seabrook showed up taller than him, and yes, a mess is a great way to describe it.

"We were....set in our ways," Duncan says.  "Lots of old grudges."

"Even when - even if we had wanted to change, I'm not sure we could have managed it then.  Not as teenagers with more aggression then sense," Seabrook says.  He's blushing a little and Duncan doesn't know why.

"What?" Duncan asks.

"What do you mean, what?" Seabrook asks.

"You're blushing."

"Can't we just have some pie?"

"Certainly. After you tell me why your blushing."

Seabrook closes his eyes and then looks down to where Duncan is sure Stanley is seated. "Do you remember the day our parents signed the marriage contracts?"

"You mean when you pushed me into the lake?" He'd been seventeen and trying so hard to be an adult.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, since we were going to get married." Seabrook is actually sinking down into his chair. "Well, I was fifteen and you remember fifteen. I wanted... things all the time."

"You - really?" Duncan asks.  "But I was so scrawny then! And spotty."

Seabrook glares.  "I was fifteen! What did I know?"

"So you pushed me into the lake?"

"It made sense at the time."

Duncan laughs and Seabrook sighs, "So, sorry about all of that."

"You're forgiven. And I'm sorry for ignoring you all the time. And that your courting attempts weren't less antagonistic, they might have worked."

"Wh - really?" Seabrook asks. "But I was so -"

"Seventeen's not so different from fifteen," Duncan points out.

"I seem to remember that from seventeen," Seabrook says.  "On my seventeenth birthday, I - never mind. You don't want to hear that story."

Duncan raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.  Instead, he lifts his glass.  "To not being teenagers anymore."

"Oh yes, I'll drink to that," Seabrook says. And he does, quite a bit.

 

Still, he's sober enough to help Duncan back up the stairs to his bed.  Up is more difficult than down, and Duncan has to rely more on Seabrook than he intended. And his hands are in places that make Duncan think of their discussion from dinner.

The problem is, Seabrook had only said anything about when he was a teenager.  And he definitely isn't a teenager now, and his feelings might have changed, without the flush of puberty to help them along. 

But if he was attracted to Duncan when he was scrawny and spotty, surely he wouldn't be completely against it now that they're married and Duncan's filled out some.  
   
Of course, his leg is still broken, so his seduction attempts are going to have to wait.  
   
Even if Seabrook is leaning over him in bed at this very moment.

"Do you want me to read to you again?" Seabrook asks once Duncan is settled.

"I'll probably fall asleep," Duncan warns him.  Between the wine at dinner, and the fact that the stairs were much more work than he had anticipated, he can already feel himself drifting off.

"Just a little while then," Seabrook says.  
   
He opens the book and begins reading to Duncan, his voice smooth and steady and comforting. Duncan's eyes fall shut immediately and he doesn't bother to open them a few minutes later when Seabrook stops. He expects to hear Seabrook get up or the door to open.  
   
Instead it's just a quiet sigh and the touch of Seabrook's hand on his cheek. Duncan rolls his head along the pillow to lean into the touch until Seabrook finally pulls away.

The next morning, Duncan informs the maid who brings him breakfast that he's going to go outside that day.  She looks skeptical, but after he's finished, two of the larger footmen arrive at his room to help him down the stairs. 

His leg is a bit sore when he finally make it outside, but he doesn't care because the sun is on his face, the air is clean and Seabrook is training with his shirt off.  He discovers that these things, maybe especially the last, make it quite easy to ignore the pain in his leg.  
Duncan's barely taken a seat before someone alerts Seabrook to his presence.  
   
"What are you doing out here, the doctor said not for another week."  
   
"I don't think a few days matter," Duncan says. "And this isn't that much further than the dining room."

Seabrook rolls his eyes.  "I should never have let you down for dinner last night."

"But how am I supposed to improve your archery from bed?" Duncan asks.

"My archery is better than you think," Seabrook says.  
   
"Oh really?" Duncan asks.  
   
"But I'm sure your advice couldn't hurt," Seabrook allows.  
   
Duncan grins.  
   
"Once I'm finished here we'll have the targets moved over."

When he demonstrates for Duncan, he has to admit it's true.  Seabrook isn't perfect, but he's a lot better than he was.

It means that Duncan doesn't need to get up and adjust his stance.

Which is good, because Duncan's leg hurts and he doesn't particularly want to stand on it for any length of time, but bad because Seabrook isn't wearing a shirt and Duncan wants to touch him so badly. So he gives Seabrook a few verbal tips to help his shot and admires the way the muscles in his back move when he draws the bow. 

When Seabrook has shot all his arrows, he flops down on the bench next to Duncan again. Duncan hands him the flask of water and Seabrook drinks gratefully.

"If you want me to help you inside, I think we're going to need to wait a few," Seabrook says.

"I'm in no hurry," Duncan says. He's happy to stay here next to Seabrook all afternoon.

Seabrook smiles at him, and leans a little against Duncan's shoulder. His skin is hot and Duncan can feel it through his shirt. It makes him want things, but they're in the middle of the yard, so he just leans back against him.

Impulsively he reaches for Seabrook's hand. 

Seabrook gives up his hand easily.  "Checking on my archery calluses?" he says with a grin.

"Something like that," Duncan says.

He traces his fingers over the lines of Seabrook's hand and imagines what they'd be like on bare skin. But that's a dangerous line of thinking, so he closes his hand over Seabrook's and brings it down to rest on his thigh.

Seabrook glances over at him and grins, squeezing Duncan's hand.

Duncan has to duck and look away, but he can't helps smiling either. 

Seabrook knocks his shoulder against Duncan's.  "Let me know when you want to go back inside, okay?"

"It might be a while," Duncan admits.  "I'm enjoying the sun today."  And also the way he's pressed up against Seabrook.

Mowgli is stretched out at their feet and Duncan feels more content than he thought possible.

Eventually he hears Seabrook's stomach rumble.

"Are you hungry? You should have said something."

"It wasn't pressing," Seabrook shrugs. "I was enjoying sitting out here. With you."

"You shouldn't have let me keep you," Duncan says.

"You didn't want to move," Seabrook says.  "It was no great trial."

"How about we move this to somewhere with food?" Duncan suggests.

"I should find my shirt," Seabrook says, looking about the yard.

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," Duncan says.

Apparently he doesn't do a great job of not sounding disappointed, because Seabrook raises an eyebrow at him and grins.

Duncan hopes that any flush is hidden by the existing affects of the sun on his skin. 

When Seabrook helps him up so they can go in for lunch, Duncan maybe clings a little more than he strictly needs to.  Seabrook either doesn't notice or doesn't care. 

"So what are your plans for the afternoon?" Duncan asks once they're seated for lunch.

Seabrook shrugs, "I haven't decided yet. Yourself?"

"The library, most likely," Duncan admits. Now that he's down on the main floor he's in no rush to go back upstairs.

"I may join you there," Seabrook says.   "Although I think I need a bath first."

"Don't let me keep you from your duties," Duncan says.  "I wouldn't want you to neglect the business of the estate."

Seabrook shrugs.  "There's nothing that won't keep for a few days."

Duncan should protest more so the house doesn't fall into disarray, but he doesn't.

Seabrook escorts him to the library before leaving to bathe. Duncan's a little distracted by that idea, so it takes him a few minutes to get back to his feet so he can explore the library shelves. He could request that others fetch books for him over the past weeks, but it's not the same as browsing himself.

He's lost in thought as his fingers trail over the spines of the books in front of him, so he doesn't hear Seabrook come up behind him.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" 

Duncan startles, and then there's a warm hand on his back to hold him steady.

"I am resting," he says.  "At least, I was until you startled me."

"Resting means sitting," Seabrook says.  

"The books require standing," Duncan says. "I'll sit soon."

"You've got three books under your arm, surely that's enough."

"For today, certainly," Duncan says. "I suppose I could come back down tomorrow for more."

Seabrook sighs heavily and it makes Duncan shiver as it hits the back of his neck. 

Seabrook drops his hand to Duncan's hip for better leverage, so he can push him in the direction of the couches.  "Sitting, Duncan.  If you need anything else, I'll get it for you."

"As long as you agree to let me go outside again tomorrow," Duncan says.

"I didn't let you go outside today, and yet there you were," Seabrook says.

Duncan grins as he sits down, swinging his leg up onto the couch next to him so it can fully rest. 

"Was that so hard?" Seabrook asks, his hand resting on Duncan's shoulder as if he might make a break for it. 

"I'd like to see you try to cope with being cooped up that long," Duncan grumbles.

Seabrook plucks one of the books out of Duncan's hands.  "I'll read to you to make up for it."

Duncan expects him to take the chair, but instead he sits down next to Duncan, so Duncan has to lean against him. It's a surprise, but it only takes a few seconds for Duncan to relax back against him. 

Seabrook makes a displeased noise, and Duncan's about to move when Seabrook pulls his arm out from where it's squashed beneath Duncan and wraps it around Duncan's shoulders instead. 

Duncan smiles to himself and shifts so his leg is resting on the ottoman and he can lean more fully into Seabrook, and read along with him.

Seabrook squeezes his shoulder and begins to read aloud. Duncan's reading the pages faster, so he has a few moments at the end of every page to just soak up the feel of Seabrook around him, smelling fresh and clean from his bath before Seabrook turns the page.

Duncan's not sure when he falls asleep, but when he wakes up, he's got  his face pressed to Seabrook's chest.  Seabrook is asleep too, snoring softly into Duncan's hair, and it seems like at some point he put the book down to wrap his other arm around Duncan. 

He doesn't move, because he doesn't want to disturb Seabrook, and as Duncan watches his husband sleep, he can't help but think about how he wouldn't mind waking up like this more often. Preferably in a bed and with fewer clothes on.

He sighs, and it must be louder than he realized, because Seabrook's eyes open slowly and blink at him, before his lips spread into a sleepy smile.

Duncan doesn't think he's totally out of turn to kiss him then, even if the angle is awkward and he's slightly terrified. 

Seabrook is pretty obviously still half asleep, but he kisses Duncan back sleepily, slowly rubbing Duncan's side where his hand is resting. 

It's slow and a little off center, but it's what Duncan's been wanting for so long that it's amazing. He can feel Seabrook waking up a bit more and he twists to make the kiss better, but ends up putting too much pressure on his leg.

It's a stabbing pain and he has to jerk back and quickly rearrange himself.

He's almost afraid to look back to Seabrook.

"Sorry," Seabrook says.  "Sorry, sorry.  I shouldn't have."

"No," Duncan says.  "Just - it's my leg, is all.”

"Oh."

"And if anyone should be apologizing, it's me," Duncan says. "You were barely awake and I -"

"No apology necessary," Seabrook says. "None."

"Oh."

"As much as I've thought about this couch, we might want to go somewhere more comfortable. For your leg."

"Are you offering to carry me to bed?" Duncan asks.

Seabrook snorts.  "I'm offering to help you to bed. You're heavy."

Duncan has several hopes as to what will happen when they get to bed, especially since Seabrook kisses him again as he helps Duncan to his feet.  
   
He's ready to run up the stairs, leg be damned, but Seabrook makes him slow down. "Careful, you don't want to re-injure yourself."  
   
"I know I just -"  
   
"I'm not going anywhere," Seabrook says, his voice pitched low so no one else can hear him.

"You married me," Duncan points out as they take the stairs.  "You're stuck with me now."

"I'm not complaining," Seabrook says.

This is so the opposite of how he felt when they did marry, that Duncan would skip if he could.

But if he could skip, he'd probably be getting Seabrook naked in the library, and finding out just what thoughts he'd been having about the couch.

Instead, he leans over to give Seabrook another kiss.  Seabrook kisses back, but then pulls away.

"I'm going to drop you if we keep doing that," he says.

Half the staff probably sees them groping each other on the way to Duncan's room but he doesn't care.

Seabrook slams the door shut behind them as he guides Duncan towards the bed. Duncan goes easily, but he's almost afraid of how much he wants this, and how badly he needs it.

Duncan wishes he could be a little more suave, but he pretty much collapses onto the bed.  He tries to pull Seabrook down on top of him, but Seabrook takes his time arranging himself so that he's not jostling Duncan's bad leg.  It's kind of sweet, and Duncan is going to scream. 

He is pleased with the resulting position of Seabrook straddling his good leg and leaning in to kiss him. They're more insistent than the kisses in the library, but less rushed than the ones in the hall.

Duncan would be content to do just this for hours if it weren't for his pressing need against Seabrook's thigh as a result of months of wanting.

From the noises Seabrook is making, he seems to feel the same way.

"Shirt," Duncan says, tugging at Seabrook's hem.

It's gone faster than Duncan would have believed possible and he takes the opportunity to touch the skin that seems to be taunting him constantly.

It's smooth and warm, and Duncan traces his fingers over the freckles that have resulted from Seabrook showing off in the yard.

"I knew it," Seabrook says smugly.  "I knew you were watching me."

"And you were showing off," Duncan says.

"I had to get your attention some how," Seabrook says, pushing Duncan's shirt up.

"You - ah - had my attention," Duncan says, gasping as Seabrook's thumb brushes against his nipple. "You just weren't doing anything with it."

"And you have no idea how much I'm regretting not doing anything sooner," Seabrook says.  Duncan sits up enough that Seabrook can pull his shirt over his head.

"God, look at you," Seabrook says, running a hand over Duncan's shoulder.

Duncan is grateful that the giant mottled bruise that covered his whole shoulder has faded, but he'd still rather look at Seabrook. His shoulders seem even broader from this short distance and he can't stop touching Seabrook everywhere he can reach. 

Getting the pants actually off is too much of a challenge, since Seabrook seems quite unwilling to move off of Duncan,  so they end up bunched down around his thighs. The picture he presents would be funny on anyone else, or in some other situation. But it's Seabrook and Duncan just needs to touch him: 

"You too," Seabrook says, and Duncan lifts his hips enough that Seabrook can push his pants down. 

There's no way either of them can get his pants down over the brace over his leg right now, so they stop around his knees.

So now they both look ridiculous but, Seabrook wraps his hand, his fantastically callused hand, around both of their cocks and Duncan's not thinking about appearances.

He thinks vaguely that he should be worried about making this good, because it's their first time - well, their first real time - but he's wanted this for so long and he just can't. 

Besides, it's already better than before, with Seabrook kissing him, hot, wet and needy as he jerks them off together, one hand around their erections and the other fisted tight in Duncan's hair. 

It's not long at all before Duncan is coming into Seabrook's hand.  Earlier in their marriage he might have been embarrassed by the noises he's making, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Dunc, you - oh god," Seabrook says against Duncan's mouth.

He keeps stroking them both and the sensation is nearly too much for Duncan, but he's not going to stop Seabrook, and it doesn't take much longer for Seabrook to join him in a post-coital haze. He ends up slumped on Duncan's chest, and Duncan takes advantage of the position to run his fingers through Seabrook's hair.  It's exactly as soft as it looks. 

"'m gonna move," Seabrook says. "Once I remember how."

Duncan laughs a little. "No rush."

Seabrook grins and leans into Duncan's touch on his hair.

Despite his promise, he doesn't, and it's not long til Duncan learns that Seabrook is the type of guy that falls asleep, after.  He's pretty well pinned, but he finds he doesn't really mind, especially since the stack of books by his bed is still within reach. 

It's nice, if a little awkward, reading while Seabrook sleeps, breathing steadily against Duncan's bare skin.

He doesn't realize Seabrook is awake until he hears a snort. "You would."

"What?" Duncan asks, marking his page.

Seabrook nods towards the book.

"Well someone didn't leave me a whole lot of options," Duncan points out. "You're heavy and I don't have much leverage here." 

"You could have woken me up," Seabrook says.

Duncan shrugs.  He didn't really mind.

Seabrook rolls off Duncan, making a face at the mess.  

"It's your own fault for dozing off," Duncan tells him.

Seabrook grumbles, but gets up - walking across to the bowl of water with his pants around his knees - and gets a wet cloth to clean them both up. His touch is gentle and he kisses Duncan again, so Duncan is surprised when Seabrook doesn't rejoin him on the bed.

Instead Seabrook straightens his clothes and heads for the door. Duncan almost can't believe the swell of disappointment that crashes over him as he watches Seabrook leave. He thought - he really thought...

Mowgli goes streaking past Seabrook once the door is open and jumps up to her spot on the bed. At least someone wants to stay with Duncan, he thinks bitterly.

 Seabrook bends to pick up Stanley and closes the door again, before turning back to Duncan. "It might get a little crowded, but..."

"Oh," Duncan says, flushing with embarrassment over the melodramatic thoughts of a moment before. "I think we can all fit."

"Good," Seabrook says, crawling back into bed next to Duncan.  "Or I suppose we can upgrade our furniture."

"We might have to," Duncan agrees.

"My bed might be bigger," Seabrook says.

"We'll look into it tomorrow."

"There are still some hours left in the day. And we might have to leave this one to the dogs and sneak to mine."

Duncan laughs.  "Mowgli found me in the woods.  You really think she won't be able to manage finding me in the other wing?"

"We could bar the door," Seabrook suggests, but from the way he's patting Stanley, Duncan can tell he's joking.

And Duncan is so happy that he isn't actually sure what to do what himself. He thinks Seabrook might feel the same way, because he looks over to Duncan with a smile and kisses him again. 

THE END


End file.
